seraphic [h.s]

chapter fifty.

Running out of time.

That's what I was doing. Or felt like I was doing. I was running out of time because my alarm had extended itself and my body could only take so many limits. It wasn't going to wake when it didn't have to. That was an absurd expectation.

So I slept, and I turned over, and I slept some more.

And then I woke, out of the blue, late, and with a sudden sense that time was slipping from me. It wasn't a bright awakening, to feel that I couldn't grasp time even if it were a physical thing. And to think something so otherworldly at such an early hour of the morning? No, not the greatest way to start the day.

So I rushed, jumping into leather pants, a white long sleeve with a grey vest over the top, my black chuck taylor's and bag thrown over my shoulder. I had run out the door, locked the door, taken the stairs and fast-walked my way to Hades Ink— or was rather attempting to.

In that time, all I could think about was how the people passing me on the street— in their office attire, with their hands full of documents, with their hair so perfect and smiles in tact— looked so put together. I was sure they weren't fretting about waking up late, not being able to eat breakfast, trying to predict the outcome of how the future day would pan out while loosing their breath because of their walk that wasn't really a walk, but a kind of skip-jog.

I bet they weren't worried about how they'd have to tattoo a client in about three minutes, when they still had about five minutes of their skip-jog left.

My head was foggy and confusing this morning— clearly— and I couldn't understand how I always wasted so much time just thinking. It confused me even more how all of my passing thoughts consisted of questioning my own actions. Time was slipping from me, yet all I still seemed to do was contradict my own way of living. Of over analysing everything. Of caring way too much about how I was perceived while at the same time not really even caring at all.

Who truly cared if they saw somebody skip-jogging their way to work because they had slept through their alarm and were now late? They wouldn't know the back story. Most importantly, they wouldn't care. They would see it and move on. It bugged me that I lived up in my head way too much, surely normal people didn't think this intently about basic daily things?

I stopped right outside the entrance door to Hades Ink, inhaling one huge breath, before pulling it open. The faint noise of our speakers played through the space and that, in some sort of small way, had put me at ease. There was only one real reason why I had woken up— late— yet so mentally mismatched.

That god damn blue envelope was still sitting in my bedroom, unopened.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Dee called from behind the desk. The door slowly closed until it bumped my back, yet still I stood, terrified, "It's been an awful morning," I shook, "My alarm didn't go off." It was now nine and my first client had yet to arrive, at least that was a plus.

Dee shrugged, taking me in for a quick second before looking back at the computer, "Could have fooled me, babe, you know I don't care if you're late." I knew that, which was why it angered me even more that I couldn't abide by one rule that wasn't even a rule. "Yeah but, I don't want to get into the habit of being able to get away with things just because you're the boss." I threw my bag into the corner of my station and went straight for where Dee was sat.

"Something happened." I outright said, standing opposite her like a little kid in trouble. Jesus, I was pretty pathetic. For some reason, knowing what had happened just the night prior was something I could not keep cooped up in my head. Somebody else needed to know, and that someone was my best friend. "Spill." Dee gasped, snagging her fingertips off the keyboard and onto her hips.